


your last serving daughter

by littlepants



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Multiple Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlepants/pseuds/littlepants
Summary: Vex dies and bargains with a beautiful, porcelain mask, claws her way back to her body and holds her tongue. The Raven Queen chooses her Champions with great care, and this is no exception.or,Vex’s heart aches and she doesn’t know why





	your last serving daughter

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of hand-waved away what happens with Vax at the end of the campaign. (oops..)
> 
> (title from “Hope In The Air” by Laura Marling)
> 
> come say hi @[junk-food-for-thought](junk-food-for-thought.tumblr.com) on tumblr!

She doesn’t feel the pain, not really. Something sharp and cold buries itself into her chest and then Vex is shivering awake in the palm of a goddess, a porcelain mask hovering above her in the darkness.

_It’s time to move on_ , the mask says. _Do not be afraid._

And she’s not afraid, breath coming even and easy, not until she hears her brother’s voice warble out from the void, brimming with rage and tears, none of the poise and precision needed for bargaining.

“Take me instead.”

The mask turns towards it, just barely, and Vex’s nails dig into the skin of her palm.

_Perhaps I can offer you a better deal_ , she says, voice dripping with honey, hair tossed over a shoulder.

The mask turns back, just barely, and does not respond.

_My life in exchange for my life._ The words come easy and she doesn’t pause to consider the weight of what she’s offering. _You return me to my body and I work in your service._

_An alluring proposition, Vex’ahlia,_ the mask says and Vex is gasping awake in her brother’s arms. Percy’s eyes are like ice and Vax’s face is streaked with tears and she knows better than to mention porcelain masks or darkness like raven’s wings.

“What happened?” she says instead, paints a smile over her lips and furrow between her brows.

“You were knocked out, darling,” Zahra says far too gently. “Do you feel all right?”

“Of course,” Vex says, and pretends she doesn’t feel Vax’s hands trembling under her, “just a little cold is all.”

There’s a flutter of movement, Vax helping her to her feet, Zahra throwing her cloak around the both of them, Grog pulling a bottle of firewhiskey from who-knows-where, and within minutes they’re moving back through the dark tunnels, up towards the surface, Vax gripping her elbow and a cool weight pressing against her spine.

Tension settles over the group like a sheet of ice, cold and brittle, and stays like that for days.

Vax hovers, sulking behind her like he thinks she won’t notice, and Percy barely looks at her, always two steps out of reach, jaw working like he has something to say but can’t put the words in the right order. And they all ask how she is doing over and over and she doesn’t say _frustrated_ or _exhausted_ or _confused_ and she doesn’t tell them about the armor, how much it scares her, how comforting it is, how scared she is that it’s comforting, soft leather etched with runes she can’t understand and the lingering scent of death no matter how many sweet-smelling oils she uses, a soft reminder that she lay in Death’s hand and returned, that she belongs to Death.

She holds her tongue and pretends not to care that Vax and Percy can barely stand to look at each other and pretends it’s not her fault.

And then Pike comes back and things start to melt, like the springtime sun over a frozen lake.

Vax starts sitting cross-legged next to her in the mornings, his brow furrowed with all the seriousness of pledging yourself to a new goddess. He slows down, all low and serious tones, deliberate steps, and deep breaths. After about a week, he steps out from the shadows and puts himself in Percy’s path. Percy flinches. Vex stops breathing.

“I’m offering forgiveness,” Vax says, and stretches out a hand. “You’re a good man, Percival, and I’m not going to hold it against you any longer.”

It’s not perfect, but Percy takes the hand and shakes, and Vex breathes out.

“Goddess of second chances, huh?” Vex says over dinner that night, bumping Vax’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, with a smile like the sun. “She’s pretty great.”

Vex eats her chicken quietly and wishes her goddess was that easy to explain.

She wishes it didn’t feel like penance, what she does in the name of her goddess, wishes it didn’t feel like freedom, wishes she felt guilty for it feeling like freedom, wishes her way into circles and circles.

She wishes until she can’t ignore the ravens anymore, until she wakes up one morning with a fistful of feathers and finally understands.

It feels like dying, braiding in black instead of blue, hearing Vax’s gasp of pain when he sees her, like everything has slotted violently into place, and he reaches towards her like he can save her, but it is far too late, none of them have been listening for her footsteps at night, looking for the dirt under her nails in the morning, wondering at why they’ve barely heard whispers of nearby necromancers in ages.

When she catches sight of herself in the mirror, black feathers tucked behind an ear, it feels like coming back to life.

//

She doesn’t feel the pain, just something sharp and cold burying its way into her chest before she comes to, shivering awake as a porcelain mask hovers above her in the darkness.

_It’s time to move on_ , the mask says. _Do not be afraid._

And she’s not. Not until her brother’s voice comes warbling out from the void, brimming with rage and tears.

“Take me instead.”

The mask turns towards it, but Vex’s nails bite into the skin of her palm and she tosses her hair, coats her voice in honey. _Perhaps I can offer you a better deal._

The mask does not respond.

_My life in exchange for my life._ She doesn’t pause to consider the weight of what she’s offering. _You return me to my body and I work in your service._

_An alluring proposition, Vex’ahlia._ And then she is gasping awake in her brother’s arms.

She doesn’t see Percy’s eyes or Vax’s tears. “I think I met the Raven Queen.”

There is an ice-cold moment of silence.

“…what?” Keyleth whispers from the back.

“The Raven Queen, I think I…” She pauses, catches sight of Zahra’s frown, Grog’s furrowed brow, the relief written across Percy’s face. “I think I work in her service now.”

She turns back to Vax, ready with apologies or excuses, but he is standing up, already half-gone.

“You look cold, dear,” Zahra says gently. And Vex shivers, suddenly and violently, and everyone rushes to her like a wave, Zahra helping her stand, Grog with a bottle of firewhiskey, someone’s cloak thrown around her shoulders and then they are making their way back towards the surface, silent and slow, a comforting weight pressing goosebumps against her spine.

Vax is waiting for them on the edge of the lake.

He doesn’t look at her, just crushes her hand in his and starts walking.

“Vax,” she says. “Ow.” And he lets go of it like a hot iron, deflating even as he keeps time with her steps.

“What’s She like?” He asks quietly and Vex shivers at the memory.

“Beautiful,” she breathes. “Powerful.”

Keyleth has them all back in Whitestone before Vax finally meets her eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’ll do this with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll pledge myself to her, to the Raven Queen. I’ll do it with you, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She almost laughs, almost narrows her eyes and says _I didn’t ask you to do that_ , but Vax has never been one to take commitment lightly.

“Okay,” she says, and finds herself smiling. “Thank you.”

It’s weeks before She sends Vex anything more than friendly ravens and passing shadows in dreams.

It’s months before townsfolk spot them for the first time, and longer until wizards of undeath start fearing arrows and daggers in the night.

It’s years before they come to roost in Vasselheim, rumors made flesh as the Raven Twins come home.

//

She doesn’t feel the pain, just something sharp and cold burying itself in her chest before she’s caught suspended in the swirling darkness.

“Don’t take her away from us.” Percy’s voice comes from nowhere, from everywhere. “Give her back.”

Vex gasps awake in her brother’s arms and six pairs of eyes snap from Percy to her.

“What happened?” she asks Percy, but Zahra’s voice answers her instead.

“You were knocked out, darling.” It’s far too gentle and Vex knows better anyway.

“Well, all right.” She lets a smile settle over her lips and her gaze slip away from Percy. “It’s rather freezing in here, isn’t it?”

There’s a flutter of movement, cloaks and firewhiskey and gentle hands. And Percy lifts the armor out of the casket gently, murmuring to himself, eyes toward the floor.

Vex gets the story in bits and pieces, mostly from Grog, parts from Keyleth. The beautiful, shadowy woman they describe takes shape slowly, splitting the difference between frightening and alluring. Eventually Vex remembers Her with perfect clarity, as if she was there when the Raven Queen lifted a hand toward Percy and took what he had never offered.

The skin under Percy’s eyes purples. His skin is cool and his steps are soft and Vex feels unbelievably, impossibly sad.

_I bought you a book,_ she almost says. _Your goddess isn’t evil._

But Percy doesn’t want to hear about death and fate and the natural order of things.

So Vex is quiet and keeps the little book she bought by her bedside and only lets her heartache out in the moments when she gasps awake from dreams. _Nightmares,_ she calls them, but bad dreams don’t leave you flushed and guilty in the middle of the night.

//

She doesn’t feel the pain, just a frigid breeze as dark energy crackles out from the casket.

“Godsdamnit, Percy! An inch closer and that could’ve _killed_ me.”

 

(Vex’s heart aches gently, like a bruise before it fully blooms.)

 

She reaches for Percy’s hands as he stretches out towards the armor.

“Might I suggest we look to see if it’s trapped first?”

 

(Vex’s heart aches fiercely. She weeps for some unknown loss, for the inexplicable hollowness in her chest.)

 

Vax presses a potion into her hands.

“I’m not _fragile_ , brother. I can take care of myself.”

“Just take it and stop complaining.”

 

(There is a woman with dark hair and no face and no name and Vex cannot stop thinking about her, aching for her.)

//

She doesn’t feel the pain, just a distant shiver as she comes to, a porcelain mask hovering above her in the darkness.

_It’s time to move on_.

But her brother’s voice comes warbling out from the void: “Take me instead.”

Vex’s hands curl into fists. _Perhaps_ , she says, but her hair catches as she shrugs it over a shoulder. _Perhaps I can offer you a better deal._

The mask is silent, waiting.

_Take me_. Her words fall far short of honey-smooth. _I can dedicate my life to your service._

_Indeed you shall, Vex’ahlia,_ the mask whispers, and then even the dark void falls away.

Vex scrabbles to catch hold of fleeting images:

Sunset in Syngorn. Vax in dusty leather armor, etched with runes. Pike falling to her knees over the absence of a dark-haired ranger. Her mother’s smile. Her own dead body, splayed across the cold stone floor.

Each one fades until finally, so does she.

//

She doesn’t feel the pain, just a distant shiver as she wakes in the palm of a goddess.

The mask speaks, but Vex can’t hear, can’t feel her heartbeat, can’t keep her hands still.

“Take me instead.”

_No,_ Vex breathes, but it is lost in the silent cacophony of the void.

The mask turns slowly towards Vax’s voice.

_No!_ But everything is already fading away and then she is gasping awake in her brother’s cold arms.

Vex screams, sharp and wordless, and doesn’t stop until her throat is raw.

//

She doesn’t feel the pain, not really. Something sharp and cold buries itself into her chest and then Vex is shivering awake in the palm of a goddess, a porcelain mask hovering above her in the darkness.

_It’s time to move on_ , the mask says. _Do not be afraid._

And she’s not afraid, breath coming even and easy, not until she hears her brother’s voice warble out from the void, brimming with rage and tears, none of the poise and precision needed for bargaining.

“Take me instead.”

The mask turns towards it, just barely, and Vex’s nails dig into the skin of her palm.

_Perhaps I can offer you a better deal_ , she says, voice dripping with honey, hair tossed over a shoulder.

_No._ The voice is firm. _I believe you cannot._

Vex gasps awake and there is shuffling and firewhiskey and cool, unbreachable silence.

Vax barely looks at her in the following days, and when he does it’s with red-hot tears and words weighed down with fear of his new goddess. Next to him, she feels weightless, fumbling for something to keep her from floating adrift.

_This wasn’t supposed to happen,_ she almost says to him and is bewildered every time. Of course it wasn’t. But the thought returns, over and over, just like the nightmares. She reads the leather-bound book to calm them, but it only spins them into more vivid things, porcelain and pulsing darkness.

She stops calling them nightmares after a while, when she gasps awake, hot and tangled in her sheets, longing for cool hands and ethereal words.

These moments are silent, moonlit things. Daytime has Vex all smiles and certainty. She watches her brother collapse in on himself and be re-born, softer and surer and more like Her, and she refuses to bat an eye.

Years pass. Vex doesn’t cry for the hollow feeling against her spine anymore, gets used to the brief moments of vertigo, the feeling that something is missing.

She pretends it’s on a whim that she visits the temple in the Duskmeadow District. She pretends she’s too proud to submerge herself in blood, pretends that simply being in the temple doesn’t make her palms sweat, her heart pound, send heat coiling in her stomach.

She waits. Time stretches on as she stays silent under the stone gaze of the Raven Queen’s statue, ever speechless in Her presence. She’s still too hot, flushing even in this chilly, echoing chamber. She steps out of her boots, shrugs off her cloak, and wonders if this is a test.

Finally, she drags herself to the edge of the pool. As her fingers hesitate over the smooth surface, she wonders what she’s hoping for.

_Vex’ahlia._ The whisper echoes through the hall. _My devotee. My Maiden of Ravens._

Vex’s skin lights up in goosebumps and she can’t stop the strangled, happy sigh from escaping.

_It is my dearest pleasure to meet with you once again._


End file.
